


Divinity

by Castiolare



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Headcanon, Inspired by Fanart, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Personal Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiolare/pseuds/Castiolare
Summary: The stories of the gods and goddesses' romantic endeavours, joys and despairs, albeit only myth shared by mortal tongue.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Divinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by amartbee on Twitter with her Persephone!Bulma and Hades!Vegeta fan art. I plan to do more on some god AU couples in the future, but for now, I wanted to get this out whilst it was still fresh in my mind.
> 
> Created and finished: Feb 10, 2020
> 
> * * *

Every visit to the surface was always blinding, numbing to the deity’s senses. Earth was so bright, so vibrant; sunlight cascading through the leaves dipped with dew, blossoms opening after a twilight slumber, a strange sense of relaxation and beauty unfolding before Vegeta’s eyes.

The goddess’ forest, where no mortal was ever seen again. The deity in question, the goddess of nature, had a beauty that blinded many, that artists could never hope to encapsulate in their art, and that had won over many weak-hearted men and women to enter her domain without care for the environment.

Every single one, dead. A single kiss from the blue-haired divinity was enough to eliminate a mortal, though it was rarely an approach she liked to adopt. Their bodies would become fertiliser for the land, whilst the ruler of the Underworld would be provided with their soul, left to waste away in whatever the judges deemed appropriate; Raditz and Nappa were the ones to make those decisions, not him. As such, he had quite the free time to use and make visits to greet the apple of his eye.

With every arrival to greet his queen, Vegeta always came to her with charcoal to further fertilise the plants. The garden seemed to grow even more with each visit.

Bulma, at first, was hesitant to trust the king of the Underworld, based on the rumours spread amongst the gods, of a man with an opposing stature, who had no interest in communicating with others. Whose body was scarred, ashen black, eyes like liquid gold, and a molten tongue that contaminated all who he touched. Any mortals who crossed his path would be dragged to the depths of his realm indiscriminately.

Despite this, however, the God of the Sun, and Bulma’s long-time friend, Goku, spoke highly of the arbiter, although he lacked any hesitance to speak poorly of anyone he came across. How Vegeta had become best friends with the other was a mystery to all - even him.

“He’s a buffoon,” Vegeta says with a snort when Bulma first asks him of their relationship. “His older brother Raditz is one of my judges, and his father is Bardock, the God of War. But his reasons for seeking a bond of friendship are beyond my understanding.”

That summarised Goku’s relationship with almost everyone Bulma knew through him, to be fair. But she couldn’t fault him for it, or it would remain unlikely that anything could blossom between her and Vegeta.

And speaking of, as her attention drifts from the delicate glasswing butterfly perched upon her index - a greeting, albeit vague, from the god of animals, Lapis, likely pressured by his sister, Lazuli - to the king of the Underworld striding through the shallow waters surrounding her throne, the faintest signs of a smile cross both their features.

The black-skinned lord cared little for clothing as it was, with merely a loincloth wrapped around his waist to hide what she’d seen many a time by now. He was proud of his body, marred with glowing amber scars through constant conflict with Goku (or Kakarot, as was his original name). Friendly, of course, but he refused to fall behind the beaming deity that ruled above all others. His hair like thorns, black as ink, but with a glow to it that attracted attention to him, and the often stone-faced expression that so many mortals had falsely assumed him to be a pushover.

Bulma was much the same with clothing, although she had nothing to hide her body with. Anything that should be hidden, she was wrapped in vines from her throat down. Oleander bloomed from her wrists, and a Venus fly trap lazily rested at her right shoulder, gently snapping its jaws every once in awhile. A reminder to any and all that despite her divine beauty, she was dangerous to touch, be it for a mortal, or a god.

How long had it been since she’d felt her mother’s embrace? The goddess of marriage hadn’t held Bulma in so long, that she’d begun to grow accustomed to never feeling the warmth of another against her body. Divinity or not, nobody was immune to her poison.

Nobody except the god who resided over the dead, that is. Vegeta was the only one not to have died by any means of contact with Bulma, that finally feeling the warmth of someone else was like the first rays of sunshine after a long, chilling winter. It was strangely understandable, to be fair, that one who watched the dead couldn’t be killed.

Vegeta’s time above the surface is always short - too short for either of their liking’s, due to the light above. When the sun set, Bulma rested, and wouldn’t be disturbed or woken until dawn. The king of the underworld couldn’t live under the light, and even with the shade of the canopies, the scars on his figure still burnt like magma boiling under his flesh.

“You like it here that much?” Bulma’s gentle voice breaks the king’s train of thought. His back against a sturdy oak, with the goddess on his lap, kissing every scar, whilst ivy wrapped around his body as if to trap him permanently. He’d fallen silent, the two connected once more, their panting and deep breath filling what empty air he’d left behind.

“Enough to forget about me?”

The king chuckles quietly under his breath, weakly shaking his head in response, only for the vines to tighten around his body, squeeze around his neck and shaft, and a low groan to fall from his lips.

“It’s hard to forget about my queen,” Vegeta responds smoothly, calmly, despite his head spinning from a lack of air. One hand rests upon the blue-haired beauty’s hips, the other around her neck to gently pull her into a passionate kiss to reaffirm his statement.

Brandy. That’s what her lips tasted like. Rich alcohol, despite a fruity tint, that burnt his throat, and sent electricity through his veins. Poison. Delicious venom from his queen. That of which only he could taste, the forbidden fruit before him of which only he could devour.

Bulma’s fingers thread through the matted locks, feeding him more of the poison of which he sought. He hadn’t an ounce of fear or worry for his own wellbeing, taking what he could of her before descending back into the depths beneath the Earth’s surface, where no roots could ever find him. His touch was warm, like embers tickling her skin, his lips with a smoky taste to them that she couldn’t quite place.

“Live with me,” Vegeta says, after the two break briefly for air. “Join me in the Underworld, Bulma.”

It was a question long on his mind, their proper consummation of their marriage. And every time, her response remained the same, just as it did today:

“I can’t. As much as I want to, what would the planet do without me, Vegeta?” Sadness fills the jewels that are her eyes, and Vegeta wipes away the budding tears, sighing to himself for making such a selfish suggestion.

“I understand. Believe me, I do. I just wish we could have more time together.”

“As do I… So let’s make this moment count, my king.”

Vegeta growls softly at the mention of titles; hearing his queen call him her king rejuvenated the stoic deity, flipping the other over, trapping him beneath him and a blanket of wolfsbane to hide their romance from unwanted eyes.

His, and only his. His queen. His Bulma. No matter the distance, the time, she would be his, even if they couldn’t remain by each other’s side.


End file.
